All Work And No Play
by Unoriginality
Summary: Steve and Bucky try to take a vacation, wherein Bucky sucks at puttputt and pens get used as knives. Who wants vacation with the job is more fun? (Winter Soldier spoilers.)


Bucky didn't feel awake. But then, seven in the morning was just barely past stupid 'o' clock, so it wasn't much surprise. His elbows were propped on the table, his head in his hands as he stared blankly somewhere over Steve's shoulder in front of him. His coffee was cooling to a sane temperature in between his arms.

Steve was already drinking his, apparently ignoring the scalding heat. He didn't look much more awake himself. But he was the first to break their early morning silence. "You know the one thing I miss about being in the field?"

Bucky slowly blinked, turning his gaze just slightly to the right to look Steve in the eye. "Huh?" Intelligent, really, but at that hour before coffee he couldn't formulate much better.

"Nature. New York and D.C. are too urbanized. Remember the leaves in Germany during the fall?"

Bucky had to really think on that one. His memories were still scattered, but more were coming back every day, and the more stories Steve threw at him, the faster they came. But he still had to stop a moment to think. "Oh, yeah," he finally said. "Yeah, the city's got nothing on the countryside this time of year. I don't care how many damn trees they try to plant, there's too much concrete." He took a tentative sip of coffee. Okay, it was drinkable.

Steve seemed to get lost in his thoughts again, making Bucky wonder where that strange observation had come from. He was probably sleep deprived. Bucky _had_ noticed a bit of restlessness from his roommate the night before. He didn't ask about it, assumed it was probably nightmares, as haunted anyone who'd been in the business. He figured if Steve wanted to talk about it, he would.

"You know, New England's supposed to be pretty nice around this time of year. Wanna take a trip to Vermont for a couple weeks?"

Oh. So that's where the observation came from. Steve wanted a vacation away from D.C.. Bucky didn't really blame him for, but Vermont? Really? "Why Vermont?"

"It doesn't have to be Vermont. Maybe just one of the New England states. It's gotta look better than this place right now."

Bucky was way too tired for this. "What, a romantic getaway? The more you talk, the more I want to move to my own room again." Not really, but Steve was just trying too hard sometimes.

Steve laughed, his face lighting up with a brilliant smile. "Buck, don't be an asshole. I just want out of this city for awhile, and we're between jobs, so why not? We have enough to afford it."

While the idea of a trip intrigued him, Bucky wasn't sure how up for it he actually was. He set down his mug. "Why don't you get a date to go with you?"

Steve sighed. "Two reasons. One, I haven't had anyone special since Peggy. A few dates now and again, but there's a distinct lack of shared world views. I'm old enough to be these women's grandfather. Little hard to find common ground. As for the other, you know damn well I don't like leaving you alone for long, and you don't like it either, so again I ask, why not?"

Bucky chose to ignore the question for a moment to hone in another thing Steve said. "Cradle robber."

"You have no room to talk."

"I don't date."

"Not my point, Bucky, quit being pedantic."

Bucky gave him an offended look. "I'm being accurate, not pedantic."

Steve gave him one of those looks that promised something thrown at Bucky's head if he didn't stop talking. "Bucky? Just answer my question. Do you want to get away from D.C. for awhile or not?"

Bucky took a drink of his coffee, considering that. They saw plenty of places with their jobs, but it might be nice to get to enjoy being somewhere rather than on guard the whole time. "Eh. Why not. Question is, where in Vermont?"

Steve was quiet. "Normally I'd look at a map, but this is the computer age, I think I should probably look around on Google or something."

"So go get your laptop. Unless you had pressing business right this second?"

"No," Steve said with an amused grin, then got up, grabbing his laptop from the coffee table in the living room area about ten feet away and then pushing his coffee mug out of the way. Bucky moved his chair around closer to Steve to watch over his shoulder and either heckle Steve's lack of computer skills or offer input. Probably both.

Steve opened Google, then stared blankly at it before looking at Bucky. "Should we look for small towns? The big cities would defeat the purpose of getting out of a big city."

Bucky shrugged. "So search for small towns in Vermont. Just because Google doesn't have SHIELD's old search resources doesn't mean it's stupid. It'll come up with something."

Steve took Bucky's suggestion, bringing up- of course- wikipedia. "Okay, so what isn't on wikipedia?" Steve asked, clicking on the link for a list of towns in Vermont.

"Probably nothing," Bucky said. "Especially now that SHIELD and Hydra's secrets are out all over the place. Wikipedia's probably got the best rundown of that information."

"Yeah, I've read some of their files," Steve said, a bit distracted by scrolling through the towns. He paused, scrolled back up, and stared. Bucky glanced through the list, trying to find what had Steve staring so hard at the screen that it might break. "Lewis in Essex county, population zero. Does that even count as a town anymore?"

"It's an ex-town."

Steve slowly switched his gaze from the computer to Bucky. "When did _you_ watch Monty Python?"

"Netflix while you were at the VA," Bucky said. "I got bored. My question is, when did _you_ see it? It doesn't strike me as your sort of humor."

"Tony," Steve said, turning back to the listing of towns. "He's caught me up on a lot of pop culture movies."

"Oh good, you can help catch me up." He sipped his coffee, watching the names of a million generic towns scroll by. "Hey, there's one with a population of five. Is that any better?"

"No, Bucky. We need something big enough to have a hotel. Unless you wanna sleep on the ground. We don't have camping stuff."

"We've slept in worse," Bucky pointed out.

"Why do it when we don't have to though?" Steve looked over at him.

Bucky watched him over his coffee mug. "Okay, point. So look for towns with a population of at least five thousand. We might find something there. Just don't suggest a bed and breakfast, or our hosts will start asking if this is the honeymoon."

Steve gave him another one of those looks that promised bodily harm. Bucky just flashed him a bland smile, then looked back to the screen. "What about that one?" he asked, motioning to the screen.

Steve clicked the link. "Springfield. Home of the Simpson's movie. Wow, we're really aiming high here."

Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "We have standards around here, Steve."

"Yes, but are they _good_ standards?"

"They involve you and I. I'd say no." There was another one of those looks. Bucky couldn't help himself, that look amused him so much because Steve had always had it perfected and spent most of their lives together able to do absolutely jack and shit to really be a threat. Sure, he could probably fling something hard enough to hurt now, but that was beside the point.

A bit more looking proved that Vermont was a whole lot of nothing. Lots of maple trees, but that was about it.

"We'd be going there for leaves and nothing," Steve said.

"Isn't that the point?" Bucky asked.

"I know you don't like playing tourist, but I'd like a place a little less... barren."

Bucky gave him a cross look. "Just remember, this is _your_ idea."

Steve sighed. "So okay, Vermont was a bad place to suggest. I've never been there, I didn't realize it'd be so empty. You make a suggestion."

"Maine?"

"Known for their lobster, of which you cannot have, because you're allergic to shellfish."

Bucky looked blankly at him. "I am?"

Steve glanced at Bucky. "You were before Hydra got ahold of you, at least. You might not be anymore, but I don't think you want to chance it."

Bucky searched through his brain for that memory. "Oh yeah," he finally said. "I had shrimp once and-"

"-and puffed up to twice your size," Steve finished. "I remember. I mean, if you really _want_ to tempt fate..."

"Not particularly," Bucky said. "Does it have to be New England?"

"No, just somewhere with less concrete than here." Steve stared blankly at the computer screen. "Florida?"

"Right, where the cockroaches could carry us to Disneyworld."

"Okay, your turn."

"Absolutely nothing in the mountains," Bucky said, quickly ruling out half the country.

A muscle in Steve's cheek twitched. "No, no mountains," he agreed. "And no leaving the country. Most places are either work places and I want away from that, or they're full of poisonous bugs and animals out to kill everyone."

"You mean like Australia?"

"And South America."

Bucky tried not to laugh. "You mean you don't wanna go to Venezuela where there's plenty of things for us to do?"

"You make me tired, Bucky. No leaving the country."

"You're tired? I'm not even awake enough to be having this conversation." He stifled a yawn for added effect, then glared at his empty coffee cup. "You decide where to go, I'm getting more coffee before I get cranky."

"You're like a toddler who needs his afternoon nap," Steve agreed. Bucky shot him a dirty look before leaving the table to get more coffee. "We could always go to Nebraska," Steve called into the kitchen from the dining area.

Bucky paused, hand on the coffee pot handle. "What the hell is in Nebraska?"

"Right now? Football."

Bucky decided to finish pouring his coffee before asking for further elaboration. "I didn't know you cared about football. I thought baseball was your thing."

"It's not, really. I'm just noticing how in love that state is with their college football team. Some other state. There's nothing else there but corn."

"Ooh, corn. Exciting. I think we probably live in the best vacation spot in the country, Steve. Unless you either wanna go back to New York, or cross the mountains to the west coast." He walked back to the table, taking his seat next to Steve again, glancing over his shoulder at the computer screen. Steve was now wiki-hopping through every state's associated links. "Steve, focus. You can get lost in wikipedia later."

"Surely there's something better," Steve griped, closing a few tabs. He idled through the list of states. "Okay, the west half of the country is out, mountains are a big no. Hawaii is nothing but giant mountains that spew fire. Alasaka's already in winter. So that's out. The great plains are nothing but farmland now, so not that entertaining. New England is nice, but I don't want to spend all our savings on a vacation that's for no other reason than to just leave the city for a few days." He scrolled some more, then paused at Ohio. "What about Ohio?"

"What's in Ohio?"

"Why are you always the one asking that?" Steve demanded, clicking on the link.

"Because you're the one with the internet to answer with," Bucky explained, talking slowly as if speaking to a child, then took a sip of his coffee.

Steve gave him one of those looks again. "I hope you choke on that."

"There's worse things to choke on," Bucky said, setting his mug down. "Like money."

"You're the one that decided to hide your allowance in your mouth, Bucky."

"I know. It was a quarter! Made me feel rich. I didn't need it getting stolen."

Steve shook his head while slowly scrolling through Ohio's page. "Still not one of your better ideas."

"No," Bucky agreed. "So what's in Ohio?"

"Lake Erie, if you still like lakes."

"I haven't drowned in one yet, so it's not on the list of things to avoid."

Steve sighed, glancing over at Bucky. "You have simple qualifications."

"It's a good one, though," Bucky said. "Okay, so we could go to the lake. I hope you know I don't swim."

That got Steve to look at him in surprise. "Since when? You loved swimming as a kid."

Bucky went quiet a moment, studying his coffee. "Since I got a computerized left arm that could short out in the water and go dead. I only go in when I have to." Like when he pulled Steve from the Potomac. Right after nearly killing him. Steve could've gotten out himself if not for Bucky. He set his jaw in a hard line to bite back bile at the memory. He'd been coping enough to let the Winter Soldier simply be an exercise in training as a super soldier to work next to Steve, but that last week before he ran away still ate at him, and probably always would.

The unpleasant images and thoughts were interrupted by Steve's hand on his flesh shoulder. "Don't go down that path, Bucky," he said. "I can't follow you there."

Bucky looked at the hand, then at the man attached to it. "Like you don't have regrets."

Steve gave him a pained smile. "You don't let me feel guilty about them, I'm not letting you feel guilty about yours." Then he gave Bucky a stern look. "And don't you dare tell me it's different as an excuse."

Bucky stared at him, wanting to say more, to argue, but he had no interest in going through this run around again. He bit back a sigh, looking down at the table, then turned his head, almost looking at the laptop. "So what else is in Ohio besides a lake?"

Steve seemed to give Bucky the pass on the discussion that he wanted, turning back to the computer, although he didn't drop his hand right away. "The Geneva wine tasting tour."

That perked Bucky up. He leaned over, finally looking at the screen. "Alcohol?"

Steve chuckled. "I thought you preferred harder liquor than wine."

"Booze is booze, Steve," Bucky said. "And wine means prettier girls."

Steve started searching around for more information on the tour. "Says the man who never asks any out on dates."

"I like looking," Bucky said. "Getting involved means admitting I'm old enough to be someone's grandparent now. Makes me feel skeevy." Then he gave Steve a pointed look. "Unlike a certain cradle robber I know."

"Kiss off," Steve replied with a grump.

Really, Bucky just felt he was too dangerous and had too many enemies and too many issues to safely date a woman anyway. He was happier not getting involved beyond looking these days. Besides a girl would interfere in his current lifestyle, and he was happy enough it in to not want to change it.

He didn't know what he'd do if Steve ever found someone to settle down with. That was a thought for a later time, though.

Bucky and Steve looked over the page for the lodge at Geneva, which had golf (which appealed to neither of them but the nearby Strip had minigolf, which Steve decided he'd talk Bucky into playing; Bucky was skeptical), boating, arcades, fishing (again, appealed to neither, but there it was) and about a million other things. They settled on that.

* * *

It was a long, boring six and a half hours up I-70, past Pittsburgh (where traffic was atrocious), through a couple tolls, onto I-76, and finally to Geneva on the coast of Lake Erie. Bucky had been bored plenty in his life, but that trip definitely ranked up there with the worst. Steve didn't trust Bucky's temper to drive, and after some argument, Bucky had to agree. He might be tempted to drive an idiot off the road, which was something he _used_ to get away with, when he was protected by being a non-entity and working for the most powerful agency in the world. Now, not so much. Most people didn't know his real name, but the Winter Soldier was now known to be Captain America's partner in crime.

So with nothing to do but watch the scenery go by, Bucky was bored.

Arrival was no more fun. Parking was a nightmare, unpacking was stupid, (fortunately, they didn't pack like women who had to have a billion bags, they had one each), it was generally just frustrating. Bucky already regretted leaving his comfortable apartment.

At least the room had two beds so they didn't have to go arguing with the front desk for another room or a cot.

"You must be bored," Steve said in a brilliant observation once they were in their room.

Bucky turned his head from looking at the ceiling, laying on his back in a huff, to look at Steve. "What was your first clue?"

"You're being cranky," Steve said. "You _always_ get grouchy when you get bored."

"That car ride was entirely too long," was Bucky's only attempt at defense.

Steve held out a hand to help Bucky up off his bed. "Come on, let's head to the Strip and get lunch and maybe see how bad we are at arcade games."

Bucky took the offered hand and stood. "I'm going to kick your ass at whatever racing game they have," he said.

Steve gave him an amused look. " I drive better than you, Bucky."

"And I run people off the road better," Bucky said, silently daring Steve to argue that one.

Steve paused midstep, looking at Bucky. "You would, wouldn't you, you bastard."

Bucky just smiled and headed out the door, Steve on his heels.

An hour later, they both decided that maybe arcade games weren't their forte. "Okay, so I'm better at running real cars off the road," Bucky said, hands in his pockets sulkily.

"Which I will agree with from experience."

Bucky shot a sour look at Steve. Normally, they left that single week where Winter Soldier met Captain America as a taboo subject, but sometimes the causeway or the helicarrier came up, and it always twisted up Bucky's stomach when it did.

"It's not like your driving was spectacular."

Steve looked over at Bucky. "Those things don't handle quite like real cars," he admitted.

"Quite? It's no wonder the arcade generation can't drive for shit." He paused. "I'm showing my age, aren't I?"

Steve looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh. "Maybe a little."

"Jackass."

"You'll come to grips with it eventually," Steve said. "Took me two years to get over being over ninety years old. You've only had a year being back in the world. Give yourself time."

Bucky kicked at a rock. "I'm not sure I wanna be used to being ninety-seven years old, Steve. I should be living in a retirement home, drooling the day away at this age."

Steve laughed. "Isn't this better, then? You get to have fun playing video games with your best friend and sometimes get paid to take down bad people. We have fun for a couple of senior citizens."

"We're going to be the two cranky old bastards sitting on the front porch with shotguns, chasing salesmen off, aren't we?" Bucky asked, laughing.

"Of course," Steve agreed. "Now come on, the Strip's only open today, we should play some mini-golf before it closes." He gave Bucky a grin that made Bucky want to grab him in a choke hold and make him cry uncle. "I'll try to be nice and let you win a hole or two, old man."

Bucky sneered. "Keep talking, Rogers. You may not like what happens if you do."

This was hardly their first game of mini-golf. The game had come out right around the time they were born, and until the Depression hit, they played often. Bucky was, naturally, better than Steve, but Steve was a sixty pound nothing back then, too. When the courses came back in the early forties, Bucky still proved the better shot, but Steve's grasp on geometry made him a formidable opponent.

Now that Steve had spent several years using those geometry skills to throw his shield without it bouncing around uselessly, he was probably going to win and quite soundly. Bucky braced himself for an epic asskicking.

But just because he was better, did not mean he had to heckle. It was about the eighth hole when Bucky had enough of Steve starting to talk just as Bucky went to take his shot before he lost it. "Steve, I swear to god, if you don't shut that mouth of yours, I am wrapping this golf club around your throat and hanging you from the windmill as a warning to anyone else who purposely sneezes on course."

For some reason, Steve found that enormously funny. "Okay, Bucky, I'll be quiet."

"Finish laughing, _then_ say that," Bucky snapped, then waited impatiently for almost a minute before Steve finally settled down to the occasional snicker.

Close enough.

Their game done (and Steve completely wiped the floor with Bucky, it was really embarrassing), they wandered back towards their hotel. "Okay," Bucky said. Steve looked at him expectantly. "We've proven that we both should never enter an arcade again."

"Mmhm," Steve said. "And then we proved that you still suck at putt putt."

"Shut up, I do not, you're just an asshole with way too big of a head for angles and shit."

Steve started laughing again, this time laughing harder after Bucky kicked his ankle for laughing in the first place. "Okay, so we've proven these things. What's the point?"

"Now what?" Bucky looked up at Steve through long hair that he immediately pulled out of his eyes. He thought occasionally to cut it short again, but it'd become part of his Winter Soldier persona, the way Steve had his silly little helmet. He'd look weird in his uniform without it.

"Well, tomorrow there's a winery tour starting at eleven," Steve said. "As far as the rest of the day, there's dinner and then maybe just spending some time outside and enjoying the not-concrete lake behind the lodge."

"You have a grudge against concrete," Bucky said.

"Well, since the last contract I got thrown through some, yeah, I am a bit tired of it right now," Steve said.

"Okay, so you have reason," Bucky conceded. "So what, just sit and stare at the water? Sounds boring."

Steve sighed, giving Bucky an annoyed look. "So play solitaire on your tablet, but I'm enjoying nature for awhile."

Meh. Solitaire. Watching the lake would be more entertaining. He never played that game, why the hell would Steve even suggest that? Because he was a royal jackass, that's why. "Punk."

"Jerk." Steve grabbed the front door handle of the lodge and opened it, Bucky trailing in behind him. "Seriously, Bucky, you don't have to join me."

"Eh, why not," Bucky said. "It's not like I have anything better to do. I didn't even bring my tablet."

That seemed to surprise Steve. "Why not? You usually keep track of the world on that thing."

"Because I'm not supposed to be keeping track of the world," Bucky explained. "We're supposed to be on vacation. That means leaving the world to take care of itself for a few days."

Steve grinned at him. "Now you got the idea."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I know what a vacation means, Steve. Just because this is the first time we've ever been able to afford one doesn't mean I don't know what it means."

Steve had managed to lead them all around the first floor of the lodge, looking for the back door to the lake, until Bucky got tired of wandering. "Steve? You are normally a genius. But finding the dumb lake is not your brightest point right now. This way." Bucky took the lead, after getting smacked on the back of the head by Steve, and he didn't do much better, but he _was_ the one to finally find the Happy Fun Times Lake Viewing area.

So there.

The chairs available on the decks were oversized and comfortable, so while Steve sprawled in one, Bucky curled up in the one next to Steve's, knees drawn up to his chest and chin resting on his knees. There wasn't much to do except get lost in his own thoughts, but it wasn't like he hadn't done that plenty of times before, and he had to admit, this view was better than the one from their apartment roof where he usually went to think.

"Penny for your thoughts," Steve said after about twenty minutes of the quiet.

"Pennies don't buy candy anymore," Bucky said, not moving, not looking over at Steve, just watching the way the lake water moved with the wind.

Steve chuckled. "Are you still bitter about that?"

Bucky frowned. "Pennies used to buy rolls of lifesavers, Steve. Now one roll is a million damn dollars."

"Not quite that much," Steve said in an overly-patient tone of voice. "But fine, dollar for your thoughts. That'll buy you a soda."

Bucky held out his hand towards Steve, still not looking over him. "Let's see this dollar first."

Steve sighed in an aggravated explosion of air. "Bucky?" Bucky finally turned his head to look at Steve. Steve was scowling, which didn't surprise him any. "Don't be a smartass. If you don't wanna talk, just say so."

"I never said that, I just want that dollar," Bucky said. "But if you're going to be a cheapskate, fine. I wasn't thinking much of anything besides this is better than the roof."

"See?" Steve was all smiles. "This was a good idea."

"You have them occasionally," Bucky admitted. After a moment, he finally said what was actually on his mind. "You ever wonder if we're better off this way than when we were in the military?"

Steve looked back over the lake, clearly considering his answer carefully. Bucky and Steve had both broached this question before with each other and received silence from each other for their efforts. Bucky suspected neither wanted to give it much thought. They were lab rats, both of them, and mutates because of it, able to do things that no human should be able to do. It was a frightening prospect, once they both really thought about it.

Bucky figured this would be another silent answer when Steve didn't speak up for almost a full minute. He didn't push it. "Yes," Steve finally said. "Things may have seemed simpler back then, but they weren't, really. We just believed that. We may have been on the better part of the war, going after Hydra, but we still did things I still don't sleep well over. We do a lot of the same things now, just with more tech and a higher survival rate.

"But we get to choose who we fight for, we get to decide if something turns out to not be what we want and do whatever we want with that decision. And neither of us have aged a day since those experiments. How much of that is because of the ice and how much of that is because of the stuff they put in us I don't know, but I suspect we have a good long time together now, something we wouldn't have had before the serum was used on me, and who knows how long I'd live after you if you hadn't gone through what Hydra did to you."

Bucky listened silently, watching Steve. This was the most either had ever spoken on the subject, and Bucky almost thought he was hallucinating the conversation, it was so unusual. "So you're saying that even with the regrets, we're better off?"

Steve smiled, looking over at Bucky. "I think so. Sure, everyone else we knew is gone, but we still got each other."

"You're sentimental, Steve."

"Don't act like you're not," Steve said, giving him a stern raised eyebrow.

Bucky tried to act offended, but failed spectacularly with the smile that wanted to crack his face. "I never said that," he said. "But you are completely sappy. Makes me worry you're going to propose next."

Steve reached over and slugged Bucky on his flesh arm. "You're an asshole, Bucky."

"You've known me for going on a hundred years and you still sound surprised when you say that," Bucky said, looking back over the lake.

"I keep hoping you'll grow up."

"Growing up is boring," Bucky said. "And you haven't either. We just traded sticks and mud balls for bigger and shinier toys."

"That's another thing I like about the future," Steve said. "Better weapons."

Bucky smiled as an amusing thought occurred to him. "You know, anyone listening in probably thinks we're nuts by now."

"Or they've figured out who we are," Steve said. "I get recognized a lot."

"Yeah, but I still got my anonymity," Bucky said. "Most people don't know who I am."

Steve shook his head. "It wouldn't be hard to guess that you're the Winter Soldier."

"Yeah, but how many people know who that is?" Bucky argued. "Bucky Barnes is dead, long time ago. Most people have no clue who I am beyond your roommate and business partner. It's nice to be unrecognizable sometimes."

"You get to get into more trouble that way," Steve said, less of a question and more of a statement of agreement. "Come on, let's go get dinner, then get some rest. I wanna get to the bank before the tour."

"Why?"

Steve gave him one of those looks again. "You know I prefer working with cash."

Bucky sighed. "Please come into the twenty-first century, Steve. You're acting like a relic."

"I live in the twenty-first century when I have to," Steve said. "I'm on vacation, I'll use cash instead of a debit card if I want."

"Old man."

"You're older."

Bucky gave him a sour look, then unfolded himself and stood. "Come on, fossil, let's get that dinner you were talking about."

* * *

Normally, Bucky would beg for something more exciting to do than stand in a line, but while he hated being on car trips because they were boring, waiting in line was a bit easier. He could be patient, he was a former sniper, patience was the name of the game.

But seriously, why was it always the little old ladies with rolls of pennies making a deposit when Steve wanted to make a withdrawal? And what the hell was wrong with using an ATM to get the cash? Steve was still so old fashioned in some ways that Bucky wanted to give him a million paper cuts with that cash he liked to carry around and then pour lemon juice in them.

Not that he was frustrated or anything.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter next to Steve as Steve signed off on the withdrawal, arms crossed and watching the rest of the people in the bank with that sort of bored hawk stare that saw everything and didn't give a shit about any of it.

Until he noticed someone fiddling with something in their pocket, just below his jacket. Normally, he'd assume it was a wallet or a wad of cash of something, but this 'something' had a distinct barrel that made a distinct impression in his pocket.

Oh for chrissakes.

"Trouble, Steve," he said quietly.

Steve glanced at him from counting the cash. "Where?"

"My ten, kid maybe twenty years old looking for some fast cash and an excuse to use his shiny new toy."

Steve looked back, then sighed, shoving his cash into his wallet and handing Bucky a pen. "Go have fun."

Bucky took the pen. "Steve, we're on vacation."

"It's the right thing to do, Buck," Steve said. "Besides, unless you do something now, you're about to become a hostage and you get creative when someone tries to pin you down."

Bucky made a displeased face at Steve, then switched the pen to his left hand, walking over to the nameless kid. The kid started grabbing his gun as Bucky approached, clearly bent on 'talking' to him. "Planning on using that?" Bucky demanded once he was close enough to force the kid into a confrontation.

The kid clumsily pulled the gun. Before his slow reflexes could do more than twitch, Bucky's left arm gave a computerized whine as he slammed the pen into the middle of the kid's hand. The kid screamed, dropping the gun. Bucky caught it before it had barely left the idiot's hand and held it at his head. "Steve?"

As if this happened every day, Steve walked up behind him, pulling out his phone. "Already on it, Bucky." They both ignored the screaming and chaos around them of bank patrons getting down to avoid any possible gun fire- people reacted badly when they saw guns come out. And the would-be robber's screaming in pain probably did nothing to calm anyone.

"We're going to be giving statements and explaining why I didn't just stab this dumb kid in the eye instead of the hand for the next three hours," Bucky complained. "So much for that tour."

Steve just patted his shoulder while he talked to 911 dispatch.

As Bucky predicted, once the police showed up, hell broke loose even more than when the gun had first been drawn by the dumb punk that Bucky now had to answer for. He turned over the gun and all too happily, and got yanked around towards a cop car for his trouble. Steve followed, treated a bit nicer than Bucky was. People got so weird when someone had a gun, whether they were doing good or bad with it.

"So why did you have that gun?" a detective asked once Bucky was properly isolated from Steve in an interrogation room.

It was sorely tempting to give them the silent treatment as he did clients- Steve did all the negotiating in their work -but fucking around with the cops when he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there was probably not going to go in his favor. "He dropped it. I didn't want him picking it back up and using it."

"About that. The kid had a pen shoved through his hand. He couldn't have done anything with that gun."

Bucky, purely by habit this time, stared silently at the detective, before making himself sit forward and lean on the table, exposing his metal left hand blatantly. "The gun came out first."

The detective regarded that hand a moment. "Captain Rogers told us you two were on vacation," he said, finally acknowledging Bucky's obvious identity. "Why get involved?"

"Would you have preferred a hostage situation in the bank? Call it my good deed for the decade."

"That's very generous of you, Winter Soldier," the detective said. "You have permits for handling weapons like that?"

"I have more than that kid has hours put in behind the wheel of a car," Bucky said. "Got 'em in my back pocket, wanna see them? Or will we take Steve's word on this? Or better yet, we can get a lawyer from our friend, Mister Stark. He's promised us use of one if the cops ever got a stick up their asses about our presence somewhere."

The detective looked enormously uncomfortable at the idea of dealing with one of Stark's lawyers. "I think we can let this one slide," he said.

Pretty much like Bucky predicted. Trotting out the threat of a good lawyer tended to shut the guys in blue up. What a fucked up world. Used to be the mafia that got cops to back off. Lawyers must not be much different these days.

"I don't do freelance work anymore," Bucky told Steve once the detective had let him rejoin Steve. "I get in less trouble for taking money for this shit."

Steve chuckled. "Maybe, but you probably saved some lives today."

"Whoopie shit," Bucky grumbled. Not that he didn't care, but that didn't mean he had to be _pleased_ that he just sat through an interrogation like a common criminal for saving those lives in the first place. People were so ungrateful. "I doubt that kid could've even pulled the trigger."

"Well, no, not after you jabbed a pen through it," Steve said, walking out of the station with Bucky.

Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets in a sulk. "You're the one that gave me that pen," he said.

"Only because I knew you were unarmed," Steve said. "I guess you would've had more fun punching his face in, but I decided I didn't want to wait while you toyed with him."

"And you call me impatient," Bucky grumbled.

Steve gave Bucky an exasperated smile. "You have all the patience in the world when you want to. Which is only when it comes time to stop bad people from doing bad things."

"And getting paid for it," Bucky said. "I mean it, no more freelance. I just got arrested for saving over a dozen people. I got more gratitude from Hydra and they didn't exactly shower me with praise for my work."

Steve sighed. "All right, Bucky. We get into another situation like that, I'll take care of it. I probably can get away with it better anyway."

Shit. Now Bucky felt guilty. "Probably, but you know I don't let you get into trouble alone."

"Make up your mind, Bucky," Steve said.

"Why? It's more fun to annoy you."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

Steve stopped midstep and looked around. "Okay, so this vacation is officially ruined," he said, and Bucky couldn't help but one, wonder where that came from, two, agree wholeheartedly, and three, once again wonder where that came from. "What do you say we get home and try to land another job? If we're going to get into trouble, we may as well have fun with it." Then Steve gave Bucky one of those shit eating grins that made Bucky want to smack him one. "Besides. We've already proven that you suck at minigolf."

Bucky took in a deep breath, staring at Steve with one of his own glares that promised bodily harm. "Steve? We're going back to the lodge and packing and leaving before I have to hurt you."

* * *

_A Long, Long Time_ played quietly on Steve's old record player, a relic he held onto despite Bucky's insistence on getting a proper mp3 player and speakers for better quality sound. Steve was reading while Bucky stalked his regular round of news stories on his tablet.

"Steve, turn off that record," he said, spotting something on one channel.

Steve looked up, then reached over and took the needle off the record. "What is it?"

Bucky set the tablet down on the table, and used his hand to pull up the 3D imaging that Stark had personally programmed in when he made it for Captain America and the Winter Soldier. On it, a British news reporter was huddled down behind a sandy-colored stone wall.

"-where the prince and his wife and infant child are being held hostage at the British Embassy here in Afghanistan-"

The news report was drowned out by the sound of their work cell ringing. They looked at each other as Steve reached for the phone. Steve eyed the caller ID. "Wanna bet this is the queen mother?"

"I don't like cider in my ear, Steve," Bucky said. "Answer it already."

"Hello?" Silence. "Yes, Your Majesty, we've heard. How much?" Steve laughed once. "Well, we don't need quite that much payment. Yes, Your Majesty. We'll meet your men at the extraction point. Don't worry, we'll get them back to you, safe and sound. Yes, Your Majesty. Call it our pleasure." He hung up. "Good thing you didn't take that bet, Bucky," he said, getting up.

Bucky turned off the tablet and got up, following Steve to their room to change into his uniform. "So how much was she offering?"

"The royal jewels," Steve said. "I told her we didn't need that much."

"Thanks for screwing us out of a good payment."

"Bucky, shut up and get in your uniform. The queen's already got a jet on its way to D.C. Apparently, she didn't think we'd say no."

"Smart lady."

Now this was more like it. Who needed vacations when the job was a thousand times more interesting?


End file.
